No more fun, sin has singed the sun
every May game has now been played
and every ritual has been abused
walls stink with stains, carpet burns are frayed
bottles litter rooms curled with their muse
highs are on re-runs, joys an empty gun
Snow has lost its thrill, liquor growing lame
and My heart is trashed like a filled ashtray
shuffling through ruins of ecstasy
climbing to meet a wasted Saturday
boredom seeping another recipe
Sitting by a bridge, I wear my badge of shame
and I hisser as a lizard
challenging the rapture
in a velvet tongue blizzard
like a groomed purse snatcher
"where is your God?
who is she to judge me"
watching smog foam round an anemic sun
and spoiled river churn out a pasted sludge
while the stillborn traffic drips about
morning gypsies start their daily trudge
barren streets are pure, people have not sprout
The world is a void, let us have this fun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem